


Hinky Dinky, Parlez Vous

by ghostlerhost



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Gore, medic is a dad figure, poor matthew...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-16 00:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18510433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlerhost/pseuds/ghostlerhost
Summary: His legs were blown off at the knee.





	Hinky Dinky, Parlez Vous

**Author's Note:**

> this is incredibly short. like 400+ words. sorry,,,

His legs were blown off.

Initially, he didn’t feel a thing. He was only prideful and overconfident and deaf, his mind laughing in the face of death. He heard the whistle of a shell whizzing and the deafening explosion behind him but he didn't care at the time.  
The sudden return of sensation brought in the violent sounds of flesh tearing and whistling bullets speeding over his head. The sounds popped muffled. His ears ringed With the realization of what he lost. He screamed; he screamed for his mother; he was just a boy, who wouldn't?  
The bloody ends of his legs spattered red onto the loose dirt. He felt the violent sting of pebbles pressing his nerves, sending electric shocks of pain up his body.

Around him the hurlyburly of war raged on; red cloaked men ran past him and soldiers in blue clashed with them while a red medic dragged him to the safety of cover.  
“Medic!” cried the boy, trembling with adrenaline raging through his frail body, “Medic, Medic- Medic! My legs! My- my legs!”

The red medic bit his lip and pulled a medical gun from its holster. The piping of the gun was stained red from the healing fluid and the metal chambers were polished with the crimson of enemy.  
“Scout! Beruhigen dich!” The medic hissed, flicking a switch and allowing the medical gun to hum and glow, “Your legs will be fixed. Be quiet.”  
The warm glow of the medical gun died suddenly. The medic blinked and smacked it with a curse. By the medic’s feet, the boy clung onto the medic’s white coat with pale cheeks and white knuckles. He blubbered, shaking the fabric in his palms, rattlng the fabric. The scout was desperate for healing. His desperation rose with his voice.  
“Please doc! Please, I want to go home in one piece, please! I want my mum- Oh God!” The scout's breath hitched and he suddenly wailed out. A black column of mortality raised a siren of hysterical sobbing. Each pathetically shrill note was sustained; dropped for a breath then resumed. 

The medic, suddenly soft with sympathy, pulled the scout from the battlefield; The scout's pitiful display struck a chord within the man. He cursed his gun and pushed the scout to their team’s medical bay. The medic stepped over the boy and scavenged for his medical supplies. Remembering a forgotten warning, he stopped for a breath then returned to the scout.  
“Respawn system is down, Matthew.”  
“What?” the boy named Matthew blinked and looked to the medic, “What?”  
“Respawn is down.”

"My legs?"

"I'll fetch them after this."

Matthew hiccuped with painful tears. He watched the medic work through a watery screen of tears; The sting of the alcohol was numbed by shock, the cotton gauze and bandages wrapped around the clean tear had soaked red. Matthew sat cradling himself in his arms. He sang to himself- just as the medical bay doors closed shut after the medic left; something to do with a women from Armentières.

 _"You might forget the gas and shells, parlez vous? You might forget the grass and shells, parlez vous? You might forget the groans and yells, but you'll never forget the mademoiselles. Hinky dinky parlez vous.”_  

_"Hinky dinky parlez vous."_


End file.
